


Twelve

by PolarisTheYoungWolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Drug Use, Drugs, Guilty Derek, Hand Jobs, Intervention, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mates, Pack feels guilty, Prostitution, Rehabilitation, Semi-Public Sex, Sheriff feels guilty, Slash, Stiles become a high end escort, Stiles becomes an addict, Stiles feels neglected, Sugar Daddy, Suicide Attempt, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, sorta - Freeform, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-02-22 20:18:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2520500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarisTheYoungWolf/pseuds/PolarisTheYoungWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[[There is a movie by the same name as this fic starring Chace Crawford. Moments in that movie inspired this fic.]]</p>
<p>It started with him being alone and feeling worthless...feeling like nothing. Then the drug Twelve made him feel everything, and he loved it...craved it. No matter how expensive it was, Stiles found a way to get it. Using his college fund, selling his things, trading his virginity to his dealer for another hit, and then selling his body to White Collar John's for more money after. In his mind...it was perfect. He loved sex, he loved drugs, he loved the attention he got by the John's who wanted to please him, who wanted to save him. He felt powerful. He felt happy. </p>
<p>So naturally his old friends chose that time to take interest in him again. Acting worried, pretending they cared. Stiles didn't buy it and was pissed off that they were "trying to fix him". He wasn't broken!<br/>---<br/>When the pack and more specifically Derek, notice Stiles' distant behavior, they're horrified to realize just how bad things actually are. Derek almost kills Stiles' favorite regular and the Sheriff won't deny he wishes he'd gone through with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Slipping Down the Rabbit Hole

**Author's Note:**

> Let it be known...I have never used drugs outside of the meds I get for my migraines or times I get sick. So do not expect actual representation of the drug world that cannot be found on Google or based off drug using characters from fandoms. 
> 
> If you have the time I do recommend the movie "Twelve". It's on Netflix. If you love psychoanalyzing different personalities and that sort of thing...you'll like it. 
> 
> This is for entertainment uses only, drug use and prostitution are serious issues and a very dark reality. As the author I will make that dark, ugly reality as crystal clear as I can, but at the same time Stiles is the character of this tale and he will have more naive notions about it, to possibly the point where he may high light it as good. He's not in a good state of mind or in a good place so please be aware of the difference.
> 
> If you or a friend or someone you care about needs someone qualified to talk to for numerous of reasons there are hotlines. Sites like dosomething.org are set up just for that reason.

It started out by going stag to the Jungle, desperately needing to not be alone. There was something going on, there always was. The growing pattern was that he would be ignored until they hit a dead end he they needed him to find a lead with his research. Did he ever get a thank you or an invite for the next thing from the get-go? Nope with a capital N and an over dramatized emphasis on the 'P'!

 

He was so depressed that not even the wild dancing of the Jungle lifted his mood. He was about to leave when someone pulled him towards the dance floor. He didn't know who the person was, but he was hot and so Stiles said 'fuck it' to the world and dance.

 

That's where he met Walter. He was as thin as Stiles but just a bit taller. Blond straight hair cascading over his blue eyes and a smile that didn't fool Stiles for a minute. His new dance partner was stoned. He whispered into Stiles ear, asking if he wanted to join in, in the experience. Instinctively he began to shake his head but staring at Walter's dopey smiles and kind eyes, Stiles caved and took the pill Walter gave him.

 

He danced for another hour with Walter and those around them before he began to feel the effects. He felt giddy and bubbly. More hands-y as his perception of everything changed, from sight to sound to touch.

 

He remembered laughing as he walked Walter out to his car. Remembered being felt up and then being slammed into a car, he wasn't sure if it was Walter's or not, but that didn't really matter at the moment. What he did think mattered was that Walter was kissing him while at the same time digging into his pants. Let it be known that he had not expected his first hand job to be in the Jungle's parking lot to a friend he just met on a car that in the end didn't belong to either of them. With a cry of Walter's name he came and Walter moved to leave a hickey on his neck.

 

Somehow he made it home some time later. His Jeep was parked a bit askew but he managed to fix it before his dad got home from a long night shift. That morning he was so happy. No nightmares, no stress, and even with the slight hang over he had he was still reveling in the previous night's bliss.

 

His phone beeped and it was from an unknown number. The person turned out to be one Walter Patterson who invited him to hang out for the day. It was a Monday and he should have gone to school. He should have placed last night as a one time thing. But the lack of messages from anyone else, even from his father, made his inner rebel come to life with a fierce passion.

 

He texted Walter for a meet up address and then went to shower. He didn't know where he was going but he wanted to look good. He dressed in some well fitted dark jeans and well fitted Batman Logo black shirt before heading out to the address Walter sent him.

* * *

 

 

Stiles liked to call that Monday “Weed 101” as Walter walked him through it. Part of him almost felt ashamed for being that 'good kid' around Walter, but Walter just thought it was adorable and was patient with him. Told Stiles he liked his company, it was refreshing from the usual he had to deal with.

 

Their conversations weren't...stable. By the time he got home, his dad was gone again and no one had bothered to text him or call him or message him on Facebook or Twitter. Stiles didn't mind as much as he would have a weekend ago.

 

He knew he couldn't keep skipping school, but there were still days when he showed up really later or not at all or left early. He kept his distance from the pack the days he didn't shower after using. He knew they could smell it on him, but since so far no one's said anything, they either haven't noticed or don't care.

 

Which was great for Stiles. The more he hung out with Walter, the less stress he's felt since the whole Werewolf business even started. And he actually partied more and got more sexual moments from more than his hand, though he still hadn't gone all of the way.

 

It was in one of these parties in some unknown person's house that he first had Twelve. He was making out with someone on the third floor, hands groping, bodies humping, his make out buddy completely stoned and out of it when said making out partner closed his eyes and moaned lightly.  
  
“...did you just cum?” Stiles asked as he pulled away.

 

The guy just stared blankly into space before he got up on wobbly legs saying, “Gotta...drink...”

 

Stiles watched him go, trying to process through the booze in his system when he caught a glimpse of the small vial. He picked it up and shook it in his hands a bit, watching as the clear liquid swished inside. He opened it and took a sniff. He looked around with shifty eyes and biting his lip, acting very suspicious like and unsure as he filled the dropper top and then lifted it over his waiting tongue. Letting the drops fall into his mouth, the effects were practically instant.

 

The next day he didn't even make it home though he woke up with a pillow under his head and covered in a blanket. The host, a seventeen year old rich kid who was honestly the mental image of a good kid in Stiles mind, had shown him to the door after offering him a pop tart and some juice for the road. Stiles declined and thanked the kid for caring for him in his buzzed out state.

 

Leaving the house he realized it was another Monday and past noon. He had a few messages but he ignored them and called Walter. He had questions and he knew Walter would know the answers.

* * *

 

 

He did, though a bit reluctantly, tell Stiles about the drug he had. It was called Twelve. It had the effects of ecstasy and cocaine and was doubly potent. Walter warned Stiles about taking it up as a drug of choice and that if he wanted to be part of this life style for the moment, to stick with what he's been given.

 

Stiles tried, but there was nothing like the effects of Twelve. He wanted it again. Luckily for him he's met other drug users and some dealers through Walter and asked around. Good news? There was a dealer on the out skirts of town. Bad news? Twelve was _not_ cheap.

 

His allowance get him a hit and he is in blissful heaven as he parties with Walter for another night. Arriving home the following night to meet his displeased father, but still too gone to care. Though his father passes it off as only booze, never even considering the idea that his one and only son would use anything else. Sends him to sleep it off and that's he's grounded.

 

The thing about being grounded, with no one around to keep him in his room, and his moral compass totally thrown off balance, Stiles takes being grounded as more of a suggestion, and ignores it. That ends up with his phone and Jeep being taken away. He warned Walter through a computer at school not to text him since his dad had his phone and made plans to continue hanging out.

 

Something is up with the wolves. A visiting pack or something. They talk in overly loud whispers as he passes by. No one stops him, no one says hi, no one cares.

 

Stiles goes to the bank and dives into his college fund to buy more Twelve.

 

But soon that goes and he begins to sell things on Ebay.

* * *

 

At another party he meets Megan Kane. She was blond and really pretty with a body that made him feel like the teenage boy he was. She likes him, but in the little brother sort of way, sees herself in him and keeps him from being taken advantage of when he's high off his ass and there are some hungry looking dirt bags eying him. She doesn't lie to him and tells him she's an escort, but with men who could afford the really nice things. She knew this life and the things that led people to it. She gave him her number, telling him that if he ever considered it, she'd find him some of the ones he could control.

 

He thought he wouldn't ever get to that point until he did. And it wasn't until after he found himself without things to sell and no other way of making money for his expensive vice. And even without money he makes his way to his dealer, begging for a score. But without money, his dealer isn't giving him anything. Without even thinking, Stiles blurts out, “I'll b-blow y-you.”

 

His dealer raised an eyebrow but doesn't deny himself a once over which makes Stiles shudder. “You couldn't even say that without stuttering. You think I believe you can give me a thousand dollar blow job?”

 

Stiles was burning red thinking about it but he didn't back down, his need for another hit really strong. He muttered with closed eyes, his inner common sense yelling at him but being shunned out by his desire for bliss, “I-I'm...I'm a virgin...”

 

Stiles felt small and vulnerable as the stare in his dealer's eyes became more predatory. He tried to remain strong but on the inside he was a chaotic mess.

 

“You can get your score after I fuck you,” the dealer said.

 

Stiles shook his head, “I get a hit before and after.”

 

The dealer laughed, “You think you're worth that much?”

 

“How many offers like this do you get?” Stiles countered, not really wanting to answer that question. Truth was, the reason he was so deep into the rabbit hole was because even before he became an addict, it wasn't much.

 

“...alright. Come on, I know a motel where they know me. Think it a courtesy you get four walls and a bed.” his dealer said and began to lead the way.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes and followed, “How nice...”

 

Stiles got his dose before and he was eternally glad for it. So lost in the bliss the reality of what he had just agreed to didn't hit too hard when he woke up again. He was alone, naked, and in pain but most of all...emotionally and mentally numb. Looking over to the counter he saw his after doses and didn't waste time in taking it. In the back of him mind he worried about over dosing. At the same time...he didn't.

* * *

 

 

Even after feeling disgusted for what he'd done he still craved more. At this point Walter even began hinting he tell his dad. Get some help, go to rehab.

 

That was an option but as destructive as he was apparently being, no one was there to stop him. No one was reaching out so why should he bother to yell to the four corners of the earth that he needed help when his yells would just be eaten away by silence?

 

He didn't go to his father and saw less of Walter.

 

He did go to Megan though. Told her about what happened and how he needed money but nothing much else to offer. She begged to differ. And lo and behold she was right.

 

There were men for all sort of markets if you knew where to look apparently, and men with money to spare.

 

Stiles easily picked up what Megan had meant about men he could control. They were men who loved to show off and give you the world. They were amazed by the vitality Stiles showed to a world that was boring to them but so new to him. It was so odd how his life was spun upside down. He was entertaining men, his sugar daddies, no point in calling them anything but, and making thousands of dollars a visit. He remade what he took from his college fund, was able to buy back the things he sold and more importantly, his vice.

 

He came to have three regulars, and the occasional random hook up that Megan's madam had thrown his way. These were older men, well off CEO types that were having mid life crises and wanted to feel young again. His favorite, Marcus, skipped the money and just paid him in Twelve. He didn't really approve of the drug but his jealousy and possessiveness hated that Stiles went to that drug dealer, having known that Stiles sold him his virginity for a hit.

* * *

 

 

It was another boring day, he was sure it was like...a Tuesday or something, when he was actually at school, bored out of his mind. Scott tried talking to him but he wasn't paying attention, Walter had began talking to him again. It was during third period that he got a text from Marcus, asking for a meeting right now.

 

Looking around and seeing nothing that interested him in staying, he texted Marcus the motel that was closest to him.

 

What he didn't notice as he left, was that he was being followed by a certain curly blond haired werewolf.

 

Marcus greeted him with a kiss and some Twelve. While Marcus got ready and undressed, Stiles took his dose and fell to the bed with a laugh. He knew Marcus liked undressing him, like his very own present.

 

Even though he was in his blissful state he still had a bit of a notion about the world around him, if only a little. But it was enough to feel when Marcus was pulled out. He sat up, dazed and confused as he sees... “Derek?”

 

There's yelling and movement and the people in the picture hanging on the wall is talking in a squeeky voice telling him the grey beard pissed off the wolf for taking his booty which just made Stiles burst into laughter.

 

Derek is in front of him, and hey! So is Isaac. He gives him a dopey smile as he pets his cheek and says, “Cute puppy...cutest puppy of em all...don't tell Scotty, he'll be jealous.”

 

Isaac just smiles sadly at him and is helping him into his pants. Why was he putting on his pants? He wasn't done with Marcus yet.

 

“Don't worry Stiles. You're going to be okay...we got you. Derek! Forget him! Sheriff's on his way. Stiles needs us more...this stuff he gave him smells foul.” Isaac wrinkled his nose in digust.

 

Derek growled as he punched the guy and then kicked him after he fell to the ground, falling into unconsciousness after his beating and being thrown around by an overly pissed werewolf. If Isaac hadn't said Stiles' name he probably wouldn't have snapped out of it. With one last hard kick, he went over and wrapped Stiles with his jacket after taking it off. He picked Stiles up carefully, whose head bobbled onto Derek's chest when Stiles lost consciousness. “I'm going to take him to the hospital. If I stay here the Sheriff may finally get me for murder.”

 

“Given the circumstance, I think he'd let you off.” Isaac said darkly, glaring at the man bleeding on the ground.

 

Derek just growled and went to his car, Stiles being his prime concern. As he drove, breaking plenty of speeding laws as he did, he looked over at Stiles with a heartbroken expression. His grip on the steering wheel hardened and his knuckles turned white.

 

“I'm sorry Stiles...I...I'm so sorry...” his voice cracked as his eyes prickled with tears. One escaped. With all the werewolf business and his out right denial of who exactly Stiles was to him, he thought distance was the best thing for both of them. When Stiles stopped showing up less and less, it hurt but his paranoia just told him it was for the best and when the pack raised their opinions he quickly shut them up. Things got bad for a while and even when they went to Stiles, he hadn't been around, seemingly avoiding them in turn. None of them ever thought anything like _this_ could have happened!

 

“I shouldn't have been a coward...I should have...you needed me...I'm sorry...I'll make it up, I promise.”

 

But Stiles was dead to the world and didn't hear a single word of Derek's apology or promise.

* * *

 

 

When they arrived to the hospital and Stiles was taken from his arms to be examined, everyone and he meant everyone began to gather. From a pissed off Sheriff to a concern and confused Melissa, and everyone in the pack just as confused and worried. It was when Isaac and Derek began explaining that everyone began to feel sick to their stomachs with horror and guilt.

 

As they waited for news on their Stiles they all wondered, 'How could it have gotten so far?'

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was very summary like...so here I'll be going more into detail on some of the points from the previous chapter before continuing off from the hospital. 
> 
> I didn't intend it but there is a bit of a 'daddy kink'. It's all warped and messed up, and will be brought up again to torment the pack and the adults and feels...so yeah...

His name was Marcus. He was a lawyer for this big law firm that he owned and had clients worth millions. He was well into his fifties and rocking the grey, rugged, life experienced look, and had eyes that could either look at Stiles with the calmness of a clear blue sky on a perfect day, or as cold as the longest day of winter in the arctic.

 

He liked to prove his strength to Stiles. Prove that even though he wasn't young anymore, he was still as powerful as ever. Stiles didn't mind the bruises. Being used by Marcus was less painful than when he ran with the werewolves. Marcus loved that about him. When they had their pillow talk, which was what he was really paid for than the actual sex, Marcus told him he used to visit other boys but they weren't good like Stiles.

 

“You're such a good boy for me, Stiles. You know you've been bad. You know you need a firm hand to punish you... _make_ you a good boy.” Marcus would tell him.

 

Stiles only smirked lightly as he leaned in to kiss Marcus, “Yes, daddy.”

 

Marcus loved hearing about Stiles life, which Stiles embellished to be normal. He spoke of his time as a child, about his mother. That was when he was most sincere and it was that sincerity and true ache he allowed others to see for losing her that Marcus loved him most. Other than the Daddy Kink, Marcus' biggest turn on was a vulnerable Stiles in the emotional sense. Stiles would tell him things that Marcus believed where secrets. And they were. Not werewolf secrets, but Stiles secrets. Just like Marcus went to him for his kinks he couldn't get just anywhere, Stiles let Marcus think he confided things he wants to tell his own father but can't and Marcus was just a better substitute. And maybe that was true, but Stiles didn't like to spend too much time thinking about it.

 

“Have you thought about it?” Marcus asked.

 

“About running away with you?” Stiles asked in turn and Marcus nodded. Stiles just laughed as he fell back onto his side of the bed, both completely naked and covered in their aftermath, “Never...”

 

Marcus growled, or tried to, when you deal with people who actually have an animal in them that makes them growl, when humans do it it's just adorable. Stiles laughs harder, “If I run away with you, I won't be your vice soon after...I won't be as much fun...this? This is fun. This is how I like it.”

 

* * *

 

“You told him that?” Megan asked with a laugh after she took a sip from her martini glass.

 

Stiles nursed his drink and nodded, grin plastered on his face, the affects of some drug he'd done prior still in him some.

 

“Once you stop being the secret toy, you stop being the favorite. And I can't have him ruin what I've built up.” Stiles said.

 

Megan smiled at him in a caring way. Stiles knew that it was all so wrong. His choices, his life style, the people who now made up his circle, but it was _his_ life! It was all wrong and morbid but even if it was to their level, Megan cared. She just knew the reality of the world they lived in, not the illusion most people want to deny.

 

“You know I know what it's like Stiles...but do be careful. Even in this life, there is a line. An edge...and I know people like you and me are constantly looking over the edge. But honey, we're strong, and we cannot allow ourselves to fall over, alright? Promise me you'll have fun, but not be reckless.”

 

Stiles looked at her for a moment before nodding, “I promise.”

 

* * *

 

Stiles was late that day. Arrived in time for third period. He walked in, not bothering to bring his books or backpack. The teacher glares at him but there is also a bit of concern that makes Stiles scoff. He had to borrow a pen and some paper to take notes. He does, but mostly to help him ignore Scott who is being completely obvious as he tries to get Stiles' attention.

 

“Mr. McCall! I know Mr. Stilinski has missed a few days but please wait until after class. He's missed enough of this class as it is.” the teacher says and Stiles can't help it when he laughs. It gained him plenty of stares but he just continues to take notes.

 

He folds the piece of paper many times before stuffing it in his pocket. He considers skipping the rest of the day, one classing proving to be more than enough for his nerves.

 

Scott catches up to him soon enough.

 

“Stiles! Wait!”

 

Stiles doesn't.

 

Scott catches up anyway.

 

“Hey bro! Haven't seen you in a few days. Feeling better?” Scott asks, dopey, non-stoner, grin on his face.

 

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Wasn't sick.”

 

“But...you've been gone for days!” Scott cries.

 

“Wasn't sick,” Stiles repeats and heads off to his next class, which he thankfully doesn't have with Scott.

 

He does have Lydia there and her eyes are hard set on him but before she could get to him, he goes to the back where one of the stoner kids he's met at parties with Walter is sitting. He fist bumps Stiles and says nothing on the matter of Stiles taking the seat next to him when he looks up to see Lydia. The kid who normally sits where Stiles was sitting only raised an eyebrow but Stiles grinned back and gave a pointed look at the redhead. The other kid, another stoner, just went 'ah' and took a seat in front of Stiles, in a way making a blockade for him.

 

Stiles was ignoring the class completely in favor of making plans with Walter about their next party when the text from Marcus came in. Looking up from his phone Stiles caught Lydia's eyes and he knew right then and there he's had enough of his so called friends for one day.

 

The remaining ten minutes of that class he spent texting Marcus, making plans for meeting in the next hour. It was with practiced eased that he escaped Lydia and left the school.

 

He made it to the hotel room in record time, traffic being almost non-existent. Marcus greets him with a kiss before he can even bother to lift his fist to knock on the door. He returns the kiss and pushes his way inside. He feels Marcus grin against his lips, loving when Stiles shows some fight. They close the door with a slam, Marcus pushing Stiles against the door. Once the need to breathe made itself known, Marcus pulled back some and lifted something in the air.

 

“Has my baby boy been good?” he asked, holding up some Twelve.

 

Stiles smiled brightly as he reached for it, “Been too long, daddy. Of course not...I need to be punished.”  
  


Marcus smirks as he grabs Stiles by the front of his shirt and pushes him towards the bed. Stiles just laughs as he takes the vial in his hand and indulges in his vice. The effects are instant and he's loopy and out of it. Marcus approaches with a predatory stare.

 

* * *

 

When Derek first had the feeling of what Stiles was to him he panicked. He panicked for various reasons. The fact that he's thought he'd met his mate other times before and how horribly those times had turned out. The fact that it was _Stiles_ of all people. The fact that said person was human and underage also didn't help.

 

So he kept his distance, but it was too late. Stiles was in fact, his mate. The scent of him made his wolf wild, but rather than go to him, he ordered his pack to keep as little contact with the human as possible.

 

It, of course, turned out to be the worst decision he's ever made. When the rogue pack rolled into town dropping bodies so carelessly that they saw more of the older Stilinski than the younger one only did to make matters worse.

 

The Sheriff had asked Scott if he knew why Stiles was coming home drunk more often than not. No one knew what to tell him. From what they knew and asked about, Stiles didn't go to the Jungle much anymore. If he wasn't going there to get drunk, then where did he go?

 

The rogue pack took up a lot of their time and strength. By the time it was put to rest and they could refocus on Stiles...they began to notice.

 

The _stench_! Being in high school it wasn't possible to go far without smelling it. It irritated their senses greatly, but it's never been inside their inner circle. It didn't affect them because of their werewolf genes so none of them sought it out. But the presence of it had become so intertwined with Stiles' own scent...it nearly took over completely.

 

When the pack texted and called and sought Derek out to tell him, he didn't want to think about it. That was until Isaac called him telling him he was following Stiles.

 

“Isaac...no. Just... _no_. Stiles is _fine_!” Derek insisted.

 

“ _If he's fine then why the hell did some old bastard man handled him into the grossest make out session I've ever seen into a motel room?”_

 

Derek was glad he hadn't crushed his phone in the spike of anger he felt then and there. With a growl of “I'm on my way.” he was off in his Camero.

 

He met with Isaac two blocks away and the younger wolf looked ready to puke his guts out.

 

“Derek...we need to call the Sheriff.” Isaac muttered.

 

“We can handle this, Isaac.” Derek said as he began to stalk towards the hotel.

 

Isaac reached out a hand to stop him, “I snuck up to assess the situation. Derek... _we need to call the Sheriff_. It's...it's not _our_ area.”

 

“It's _Stiles_! How much more our area does it need to get?” Derek demanded.

 

“This guy...he's _human_. He's... _old_! And he's fucking the Sheriff's underage son and I'm pretty damn sure Stiles is drugged!” Isaac cried and looked at Derek with pleading eyes to understand. “I really don't like this, I hate it actually, but...we _need_ the authorities, Derek. The _proper_ authorities.”

 

Derek frowned deeply. Stiles was _his_ mate. He should be able to handle this without anyone's help. That's what his pride was telling him, but his wolf was whimpering and growling in fear and anger, sensing something wasn't right with Stiles.

 

“Fine...call him.” Derek said as he began to walk towards the motel.

 

What he was greeted with would haunt him. He's been haunted by plenty of demons, he's felt violated before by Kate and how she used him, and that inner kid who is so angry at being used and taken advantage of mixed with his wolf as they both roared as he kicked down the door.

 

He can't decided which is worse. The smell or the sight. In front of him he immediately saw Stiles, his lovely, amazing, human...and even if his eyes were open, his pupils were dilated. The amber whiskey color that he's grow to love barely there and Derek lets out another growl as he sees the rest of Stiles. Naked with bruises too new that only his nose can sense them coming. Stiles hasn't been with them in some time so he knows those aren't from running around with them.

 

Stiles was so out of it, he hadn't noticed their intrusion. The bastard on top of him, balls deep inside of his Stiles, did look up. Eyes widened a bit in shock but then some recognition and rather than feel ashamed and scurry off of Stiles and try running away, he only smirked and thrust pointedly hard into Stiles, making Stiles arch up and cry out in pleasure.

 

Derek roared again and grabbed that bastard by the neck and ripped him away from Stiles, throwing him across the room. He followed and punched him in the face, not really caring to hold back his werewolf strength.

 

“Derek.” Isaac called his attention and then their attention was on Stiles. The human sat up, dazed and confused as he stares at them, “Derek?” Stiles looks at them without really looking, then towards the wall where only a painting of a couple hanged, then burst into laughter.

 

Derek and Isaac share a distressed look because they really don't know what to do or what's in him and Derek is _so_ angry for Stiles right now and also very angry at himself. He growls deeply as he lunges to the bastard and begins to unleash his wrath on him.

 

Stiles gives Isaac a dopey smile as he pets his cheek and says, “Cute puppy...cutest puppy of em all...don't tell Scotty, he'll be jealous.”

 

Isaac just smiles sadly at him and is helping him into his pants and other clothes.

 

“Don't worry Stiles. You're going to be okay...we got you. Derek! Forget him! Sheriff's on his way. Stiles needs us more...this stuff he gave him smells foul.” Isaac wrinkled his nose in disgust.

 

Derek growled as he punched the guy and then kicked him after he fell to the ground, falling into unconsciousness after his beating and being thrown around by an overly pissed werewolf. If Isaac hadn't said Stiles' name he probably wouldn't have snapped out of it. With one last hard kick, he went over and wrapped Stiles with his jacket after taking it off. He picked Stiles up carefully, whose head bobbled onto Derek's chest when Stiles lost consciousness himself. “I'm going to take him to the hospital. If I stay here the Sheriff may finally get me for murder.”

 

“Given the circumstance, I think he'd let you off.” Isaac said darkly, glaring at the man bleeding on the ground.

 

Derek just growled and went to his car, Stiles being his prime concern. As he drove, breaking plenty of speeding laws as he did, he looked over at Stiles with a heartbroken expression. His grip on the steering wheel hardened and his knuckles turned white.

 

“I'm sorry Stiles...I...I'm so sorry...” his voice cracked as his eyes prickled with tears. One escaped. With all the werewolf business and his out right denial of who exactly Stiles was to him, he thought distance was the best thing for both of them. When Stiles stopped showing up less and less, it hurt but his paranoia just told him it was for the best and when the pack raised their opinions he quickly shut them up. Things got bad for a while and even when they went to Stiles, he hadn't been around, seemingly avoiding them in turn. None of them ever thought anything like _t_ _ _his__ could have happened!

“I shouldn't have been a coward...I should have...you needed me...I'm sorry...I'll make it up, I _promise_.”

But Stiles was dead to the world and didn't hear a single word of Derek's apology or promise.

 

* * *

 

“You want to tell me why you called me here to...this?!” the Sheriff demanded as he stood next to Isaac as the paramedics came in and took the body into ambulance.

 

Isaac's face was hard set and he looked extremely unhappy. Sighing he says, “I don't want to be here any more than you do, Sheriff, but this was far over our heads.”

 

It was the Sheriff's turn to sigh as he rubbed his hand over his face, “I suppose there's at least that. Do I at least get to know what he is so I can know what to expect?”

 

Isaac shuffled from foot to foot as he bit his lip.

 

“Isaac?” the Sheriff calling out his name, demanding with his tone that Isaac explain.

 

“He was here having sex...with a guy...an...an underage guy...” Isaac said, looking anywhere but the Sheriff, but that was a mistake. Stiles had had his red hoody with him but it had been disregarded and Isaac's eyes caught it.

 

Before he could take his eyes away and pretend he hadn't seen it, the Sheriff's moving and picking it up. He looks at it with a confused expression before he looks up at Isaac. The blond wolf just looks pained and guilty before looking down at his feet.

 

The Sheriff lets out a shaky gasp and shakes his head, “No...”

 

“Sheriff...”

 

“This is _Stiles'_! _This_ is Stiles'. Wh-what?...Wh-why?” the Sheriff collapsed onto the bed before sitting up so fast as if the bed was on fire, turning to glare at the bed. But only for a moment before he was running over to the waste basket and spilling over whatever contents it had.

 

Once he had some of bearings together he wipes his mouth with his jacket sleeve before stalking out towards the ambulance but Isaac stops him.

 

“That's not a good idea.”

 

“That bastard _touched_ my _son_!”

 

“I know...God, I know and it's sick. But you being there isn't going to help anyone. Derek's taken Stiles to the hospital...if we're needed anywhere at the moment, it's there, with Stiles.” Isaac reasoned.

 

The Sheriff glared at the ambulance as it drove away and he seethed, “He better hope I don't catch him there.”

 

All Isaac could do was nod, not sure if he could hold anyone or even himself back if that bastard ended up in the same hospital as Stiles.

 

* * *

 

Even as the pack arrived, Derek stayed stock still in the spot where Stiles was taken from his arms. He watched the metal doors with a stare so intense that he wouldn't be surprised if they spontaneously combusted.

 

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to tell us why the hell Stilinski's in the hospital?” Jackson demanded.

 

“I don't want to repeat myself. We're waiting for the Sheriff.” was all Derek said, no matter who tried to ask more.

 

When the Sheriff and Isaac finally arrived, all eyes, even those of Melissa, Peter, and Chris. Though it was obvious as to why Melissa was there, Derek didn't care about the reasons Peter and Chris being there too.

 

“I don't know _how_...how it got this bad. And though it's not a long story, it's an ugly one. Stiles...” he took a deep breath, trying to calm his stomach, “Stiles was a motel room...” closing his eyes because he couldn't look at the faces in front of him who were putting two and two together already, but he forced himself to go on, “As I beat the crap out of that bastard he confirmed something I never...ever...wanted to think a possibility...Stiles was...selling his body...” there were horrified gasps from just about everyone, “And if the scent of him at the moment is anything to go by...he was drugged, heavily. I don't know if that part was consensual or if it's something Stiles has been doing on his own...”

 

“Consensual!? Stiles isn't even eighteen yet! Drug use or not, who the fuck is this bastard?” Chris cried out and when Derek looked up, just about every wolf's eyes were flaring.

 

“Chances are he's somewhere here getting treated. My deputies will process him and we're most likely asked to keep away...” the Sheriff said coldly.

 

“Are we?” Peter asked, and Derek knew at that moment that it didn't matter if they were werewolves, hunters, or humans. A child was taken advantage of. One of their dearest and closest friends. He also realized that the Sheriff, Chris, and Peter share this fatherly power and right now the law can be damned.

 

“Our first priority is Stiles,” Melissa chimed in, eyes steely cold and Derek saw her take a breath as she forced herself to keep composed, “I'll go see if there is anything I can find out.”

 

“She's right,” Derek said as they watched her go for a moment, then everyone's attention was back on him, “Stiles is our first priority. Jackson, Lydia, you two go get Danny and dive into Stiles' cyber life...this...this isn't the beginning of it. We need to find the root. We need answers.”

 

Jackson and Lydia nodded and went on their way. Derek then turned to Isaac, Erica, and Boyd, “You three head to Stiles' room and sniff out any new scents that can be useful. Find me a lead.” with that order the three left.

 

“What about me?” Scott asked as Allison stood next to him, both ready to take on a task as well.

 

“You two head to The Jungle and ask around. Stiles is liked there...ask if anyone there's noticed anything off about him lately.” Derek said as they nodded and headed off too.

 

“And us?” Peter asked, bringing Derek's attention back to the three.

 

“I can't even fathom what you three are willing to do right now. Peter as a father who lost so much and how fond you are of Stiles. Chris...how much you worry for Allison knowing what supernatural dangers she's in, to imagine if this was her. And Sheriff...I was about ready to murder that bastard in cold blood, so I can't imagine what you're feeling...and as much as I want blood, and I will happily accept any that is spilled, but we need answers...so we find that son of a bitch, and we persuade him to tell us all we want to know...” Derek said darkly.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Saying he felt groggy when he woke up was an understatement. He felt as if he'd tried running underwater for weeks. All of his limbs felt extremely heavily, his mind was fuzzy and had a dull ache to it, his mouth was very dry and no matter how he moved his tongue, there was just no saliva to wet it.

 

He tried to focus and when he did he understood why the pain wasn't really present. It was still there but it was a dull ache. When his eyes adjusted to the light he saw the equipment around his bed that let him know he was in the hospital.

 

“Hi sweetie.”

 

Stiles looked up with hollow eyes at the calm and soothing voice of Melissa McCall. Vague memories were coming back to him and he distinctly remembered Isaac and Derek.

 

They knew.

 

They now knew about him and part of him believes he should feel something. He should be ashamed of that path he's been on. He should be disgusted by some deeper realization of how far he's let himself fall. He should be conscious of what they'll think of him.

 

But he doesn't.

 

He doesn't feel anything. He doesn't feel anything and he was sure it had nothing to do with the pain medication they were giving him. He continued to look at her listlessly before his eyes caught sight of the pitcher of water next to her and he began to make movements with his throat. Gods he was thirsty.

 

Melissa caught sight of the movement and where Stiles' line of sight went to. She picked up the pitcher and asked, “Would you like a drink?”

 

Stiles nodded.

 

She handed him the paper cup of water and even helped him lift it to his lips when Stiles' hands shook some. He drank greedily and had himself three cups before he was done.

 

He laid back and stared at nothing. Melissa didn't leave though she looked a bit awkward standing in the middle of the room before taking a seat in one of the plastic chairs.

 

She opened and closed her hands a few times before taking a breath and daring to reach out and hold Stiles' hand. He turned his head to the side and looked at her hands. They were warm compared to his. Looking back up they locked eyes and again he felt like he should feel something staring into her sad glistening eyes.

 

He could only stare back blankly.

 

“You're going to be okay.” was all Melissa could say and the emotion was clear in her voice.

 

“I _am_ okay.” Stiles eyes hardened at that.

 

Now he felt something. He felt that indignant anger rise in him that came with what he considered hypocritical care. No one cared about him before, so they shouldn't pretend to show interest in him now just because what he thought was good different from what they think is good.

 

“I...I'm going to let your father know you're awake.” She waited to see if there was any response but there wasn't.

 

When she left the room Stiles made quick work to unplug anything that would alert anyone of his disappearance. He disconnected himself and only winces slightly as he ripped some of the needles out of his arms. He felt heavy but it didn't stop him from escaping.

 

Having spent so much time in the hospital because of his mom, Mrs. McCall, and all the reasons the supernatural has needed them to be there, he knows it like the back of his hand. He makes his way quickly through the halls. Heads to where they keep the lost and found clothes and finds suitable clothes to wear before taking a side exit out of there.

 

He made it down three blocks before he crashed into a hard chest. Looking up he saw the pain filled eyes of Derek Hale. He stared up defiantly for a moment before trying to side step him. Derek grabbed his arm and wouldn't let him go.

 

“Stiles... _please_. You should be resting.” Derek pleaded.

 

“I'm not tired.” Stiles deadpanned as he tried to pull his arm free.

 

Derek kept his grip in place, though mindful to not make it painful, “You're hurt.”

 

“Right now the only one that's hurting me is you. Let go!” Stiles demanded and Derek did with a slightly panicked look. Though when Stiles tried to step away again, Derek stepped in front of him.

 

“I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. For a lot. For everything. But we can talk about it later. Right now we need to get you back into the hospital.” Derek said as he tried to grab Stiles again but Stiles took a leap back.

 

“How about you fuck off?” Stiles demanded, “You _never_ wanted anything to do with me. I'm just Scott's annoying, human friend. You don't _owe_ me anything. I don't _need_ anything from you. I don't _want_ anything for you other than to _let_... _me_... _by_!”

 

Derek stiffened and his face went lax. Stiles thought he was going to have his way when Derek just said, “Sorry.” and picked up him. Derek had him in a fireman's carry pose and no matter how much he yelled or kicked or punched, Derek didn't relent.

 

He was taken back to the hospital and he pointedly ignored his father as he passed him by. Placed back onto his bed, cuffs were added to keep him in place.

 

Machines were connected to him once more and needles poked his skin.

 

Looking out his room window he saw his father talking with Derek, Chris Argent, and Peter.

 

Great. _Everyone_ knew.

 

* * *

 

When a water bottle was waved in front of his face, Derek looked up to see his uncle giving him an uncharacteristically sympathetic look.

 

After having a bit of a panic attack when they realized Stiles was missing from his room, and finding him a few blocks away, Derek just wanted to be cuffed to him to make things easier. Or at least easier for his wolf.

 

For the time being he was being told to wait outside and he was slightly thankful for those orders. Talking was not his forte on a good day. This...he had no idea what to say.

 

Peter took a seat next to him when Derek accepted the water bottle. He fiddled with the cap before he spoke up, “He said he didn't need me. That he didn't want me...”

 

“Stiles is _not_ in the best place right now. Metaphorically, mentally, and physically.” Peter chimed in, “Don't let it get to you.”

 

“Not let it get to me?” he looked over incredulously, “My mate was suffering and going through God knows what and while I should have been there for him, I wasn't and now...”

 

“Now you can choose to wallow in self pity and do nothing but whine and complain while your mate, who is still hurting in different respects mind you, stumbles and possibly falls deeper down the rabbit hole.”

 

Derek sighed as he ran his hand over his face, “He ran away...Stiles _doesn't_ run away. Stiles faces his problems head on and...”

 

“Well...not really.” Peter gave a shrug and Derek gave him a look that told the older wolf to explain, “Stiles doesn't run away from other people's problems. When anyone is in danger or in need of help, he dived in head first. It was how he dealt with his problems...or rather, rationalized why it was alright to ignore his problems. Something bigger was always going on to distract him.”

 

“When I pushed him away for his own safety...”

 

“You put him in a place where he shouldn't have been able to run away from his problems anymore. Yet he still didn't want to face them. So he sought out another route.”

 

“ _This_ route?!” Derek demanded.

 

“The real world isn't pleasant, Derek. You better than anyone else should know that.”

 

“What do I do?” Derek asked helplessly.

 

“Stiles found his escape, but he's not dead yet. He _has_ to come back to reality and face the world as well as his actions. He won't see what he's doing as wrong. He will fight you with everything he's got and part of you will want to give up. Want to let go of your duty and responsibilities to him and that is your choice...the one you and the Sheriff have. Stiles really needs us, but more so you two given the circumstances. Your mate is in hell right now, Derek, and it's not a pretty place. If you want to reach in and take his hand...it's going to be some time before you pull him out. There will be scars and burns and plenty of baggage...but if you really love him, you'll see it through to the other side.”

 

Derek listened carefully and looked down at his hands for a long time.

 

“He's my mate. If he's in Hell, then I'll raise him from perdition.”

 

Before Peter could reply Melissa approached them, “The Sheriff's in there with him now. I...I don't know what will happen but...keep an ear out in case he needs help, okay?”

 

Peter and Derek nodded before the older wolf said, “Of course.”

 

“I have to go do my rounds. If anything happens at all, come get me.”

 

The wolves nodded again and watched her go before they went towards Stiles' room and waited outside. They felt like they should give the two inside privacy but it was something they couldn't afford. That and Derek wanted answers.

 

* * *

 

“You can't run off again,” the Sheriff stated gently.

 

Stiles lifted his cuffed hand as far as it would go and gave a snarky reply of, “You give my Houdini skills too much credit.”

 

“Stiles...” the Sheriff said helplessly.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes and scoffed, “So this is the part where you guilt trip me into a sobbing mess and I promise to get better and you earn a medal for excellent parenthood?”

 

The Sheriff was taken aback as he shook his head and tried to reach out but Stiles pulled back violently, even from his restrained wrist.

 

“You're going to tell me that I'm sick and that I need help. And maybe I am sick. But what the fuck does that matter? I'm just human and humanity is a _sickness_!” Stiles hissed, knowing that the wolves were near enough to hear him, “But it's my sickness! It's my life regardless of how little of it I have.”

 

“Which is why I'm not going to let you waste it!” the Sheriff cried.

 

“I'm not! I'm living it to the fullest and I'm happy.”

 

The Sheriff shook his head, “You don't know what you're talking about, son. I don't know how long... _this_ , has been going on, but it's not life Stiles. It's not.”

 

Stiles threw his head back and laughed, “You can't even say it...what? Still in denial? Still hoping it wasn't me doing any of it old man? Or do you just not want to go through the paperwork or shame of it being known that your son...the Sheriff's kid is a prostitute? A drug addicted one at that?”

 

The Sheriff rose from his chair and turned away, rubbing his eyes with his palms.

 

“My money's on the scandal. You don't want your _good_ name tainted by the fact that I let men your age fuck me.” Stiles smirked unapologetic.

 

“I don't want to hear that, Stiles,” the Sheriff begged as he dared to look at his son with a heartbroken expression.

 

“Really? What a surprise.” Stiles leaned back into his bed and smirked lightly at his father, “Well, there you have it. I'm not ashamed. I'm not sorry. I'm also not oppose to ' _getting better_ ', but from all the movies and shows I've seen, it normally takes people talking it out.” Stiles motioned for the seat his dad had been using, “Please...take a seat. Tell Derek and Peter to come on in instead of being creepers and eavesdropping from outside. I've got _plenty_ of stories to tell and I am not afraid to tell them...wanna hear how I sold my virginity for drugs? Or how I skipped school to party and smoke weed? How I used all your hard earn money that you painstakingly saved up for my college fund to get high? How about the first blowjob that may or may not have been to one of your deputies in the station parking lot?” when his father took in a sharp breath, Stiles let out a bitter laugh, “I know I'm fucked up...but so is this world. And I just figured...hey, you can't poison what's already venomous so...let me become the most lethal thing I can...and I _did_...all while under your noses.”

 

The Sheriff let out another shaky breath as he went towards the door. But stopped to listen to Stiles say one more thing, “You want to cure me? You're going to have to deal with the poison first...”

 


	4. Chapter 4

"We stopped by your favorite place. Got you the usual. We've been here our whole lives, we know the best food in this place comes from the vending machines." Scott spoke while trying to keep his voice upbeat.

He and Lydia were taking up the chairs in Stiles's room. From what Stiles managed to piece together, his dad was called off by some of the social workers to be asked a few questions. Mr. Argent went with Allison to the Stilinski house hold. Most likely to search his room with someone his age but also someone who knew what he was looking for since apparently whoever was sent to sniff out his room, came up empty. He should be thankful Scott and some of the others were horrible at keeping their voices down. It was very useful to those who didn't possess supernatural hearing. 

He wasn't sure where Derek went to.  He wasn't really too bothered by it, other than the fact that he didn't understand why he was there in the first place. Once upon a time he may have had an attraction to Derek, but that seemed like forever ago. With someone as gorgeous as Derek, it was hard for a bi-curious teen like himself not to feel attracted to him. 

But since meeting Walter after being shunned by the pack, he hasn't thought about the werewolf. 

"Not hungry." Stiles gave a short reply.

"Dude, come on, you love curly fries!" Scott exclaimed as he pushed the bag closer to Stiles. 

Stiles pushed it away as he glared a bit at the bag, "My clients prefer me lean and lithe...I don't eat greasy foods anymore." 

Lydia and Scott tensed and fidgeted in their seats.Stiles let out a dark chuckle.

"What? Still hasn't set in yet? You've read my charts, right?" he asked with a smirk as he looked at them in turn. Lydia had a hurt expression with eyes that were glossed over. Scott looked like a kicked puppy, but Stiles couldn't find it in himself to care. Once upon a time the sight of the woman he thought he'd love and his best friend of forever being in pain might have caused something. Once upon a time he would have cared. Once upon a time reached it's end without a happy ending a long time ago. 

"We understand that this isn't going to be a quick fix. It's a hard road ahead, but we're all going to go down it _together_." Lydia promised. 

"D'awe...such cute words. They totally would have meant something a long time ago. Back when I _worshiped_ the ground you walked on. When I would bend over backwards and do anything to make you even glance at me for _five_ seconds. Now I don't give a fuck. And neither do you." Stiles said coldly. "This is just the new _thing_...the excitement of the week. The week will pass, I'll be...dealt with somehow. A new monster will pass by, or more importantly, an event like a dance or a luncheon will be scheduled that _demands_ Lydia Martin's presence and you'll be at the mall, having dragged Allison along, in search of the perfect dress and shoes..."

" _Stiles_!" Scott hissed.

Lydia was biting her lip to keep it from quivering, but her eyes had given in and she was silently crying. Stiles stared on without remorse. His stare was cold and dead and that caused Lydia to stand abruptly and dart out of the room. 

Stiles threw his head back and laughed. "Never thought it'd be like this, did you? I'd be the reason she ran off crying...and I don't care." 

"You do!" Scott insisted.

"You're a walking, talking lie detector Scotty...don't delude yourself. I don't care."

"Yes, you do Stiles! You care because you're my best friend. I've known you since we were four. I know this isn't the real you!"

Stiles threw his head back in another bout of laughter. "This is as much the new me as you becoming a werewolf is the new you. And just like you accepted that little problem as your every day life, if you want to continue having me in your life, accept this me for me."

"I can't do that...and I refuse to. You're hurt...I get that-"

" _That's_!..."Stiles looked away from Scott and let out a sad sigh. "That's the problem."

"Stiles?"

Stiles looked up again, but this time his eyes had emotion. They were raw with it. Pain, anger, hurt, and sadness all lingered in those whiskey colored eyes. 

"You...you _changed_. You changed into something some would gladly kill you over. Into something any logical person would leave your side for, for sake of self preservation. But that's the thing that hurts the fucking most Scott!" Stiles's voice cracked with emotion. "You were _never_ alone! You had _me_! You had me to ride out the tough waters. I nearly died, _at your hands_ and it was forgotten about as soon as you realize you would have problem keeping close to you girlfriend. You had Derek who wanted you to be in his pack, Allison who immediately fell for you and love that fact that it pissed off her dad even more, and no one fucking cared that their psycho relative took me, and Erica, and Boyd hostage and tortured us! _Them_ I get!" he hissed in anger. "Hunters and werewolves...age long war. But I'm _human_! What fucking excuse did he give to justify it!? Did Argent apologize to you for hunting you just because of what you are? Cos I am part of the species he's sworn to protect and I didn't receive any apology whatsoever!" Stiles's tears of anger were flowing down his face. "I'm angry...I am so, so angry...just like you were all those times around the full moon....but unlike you I had no best friend to come to my aid. I had no girlfriend to dote or worry about me. I had no one interested in anything I was...until I did..." he let out a breath as he wiped his tears away. "I was hanging on Scotty...I was hanging on so tight it hurt...but I couldn't anymore. So I let go...and it was the. best. decision...of my life."

Scott had tears running down his face too and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out. 

"I was miserable Scott. Then I wasn't. I don't want to be miserable...do you want me to be?"

"No!" Scott cried. He lunged himself and hugged Stiles's middle. "I want you to be _okay_!" Scott's voice as a muttered cry thickened by emotion and pain, "I want my best friend at my side. I can't do any of this without you. You look out for me in ways no one else does. I'm _sorry_! I'm sorry I haven't done the same...I promise, from here on out, I'll always be there when you need me."

"I think we're way past that point..." Stiles said as he lifted his cuffed hand. "I don't think you can help me wherever the hell it is I go from here."

* * *

 

"You shouldn't take it too personally."

Lydia wiped her eyes with a tissue napkin before looking up to see Peter. She scoffed as she wiped her eyes again. "He basically called me a bitch...and he's right."

"You're queen bee of the school. It comes with the territory, and like I said, don't take it personally." Peter shrugged as he took the seat next to hers. 

"How the hell can't I take it personally. I'm one of the smartest people in this town, the most observant, and yet...I didn't notice how far he'd fallen. I saw him...and...and I knew something was off, but I never..." she shook her head at a loss.

"I don't think anyone of us saw this coming." Peter replied.

"What are we going to do?"

"What we didn't before." Peter said simply.

Lydia looked at him for a moment before he rolled his eyes at her. 

" _Be_ there for him. If you think Stiles is going to simply stop his new habits just because he's been outed, you're in for a rude wake up call. You thought what he said to you just then is mean? Wait until he's in withdrawal. His body temperature will be a roller coaster, he'll feel like there are ants crawling under his skin, his thoughts will be consumed by how to get another hit, and he'll do just about anything to get it...I mean, he sold his virginity for it once...let himself be fucked for more." Lydia cringed at the reminder and it's details that she hadn't known before. "He doesn't think he's wrong, Lydia. And it won't be easy to convince him. You'll want to quit when he...just. _doesn't_. get it! You'll lose your patience, your sanity just trying to get him to understand that this is for _his_ best."

Lydia began to cry again, "Why are you telling me all this?"

"One, you need to hear it. Two...I wasn't telling just you." Peter answered as he looked down the hallway. Lydia followed his stare and managed to catch a glimpse of Derek before he turned the corner. 

* * *

 

Stiles's room was emptied when the nurses had to come in and do more test. When one of them was carrying a file, Stiles did some slight of hand and managed to steal a paper clip. He asked to keep all visitors out, he didn't feel like having anyone's company. Since his dad was the only family he had, the rest of his visitors were to wait elsewhere. His father himself was facing quite the interrogation from social services. 

From what he could gather, his past made plenty of questions rise up. Everything that's ever been jotted down since the whole supernatural thing taking it toll. Him appearing at plenty of crime scenes, being a suspect at some point, seen hanging out with Derek Hale, and apparently Harris had left plenty of notes about Stiles's behavior that was...questionable, whatever that meant. 

Stiles was the clever one. Always has been, always will be. Sneaking around his father, the sheriff, made sneaking out of his hospital room child's play. 

People should really stop underestimating him. 

* * *

 

"You look horrible."

Marcus scoffed as he idly tugged on his cuffs. "Well...I assume that was your boyfriend who greeted me?"

This time Stiles scoffed and ignored that statement as he moved off the wall and walked towards the bed. Wiggling a paperclip in front of the older man, Stiles takes a seat at the edge of the bed and begins to fiddle with the cuffs until they come undone. 

Smirking a bit, Marcus rubs his wrist as he asks, "Should have used cuffs on you in bed, huh baby boy?"

Stiles's lips tugged upward a bit before he playfully swatted Marcus's arm, "My father's the sheriff, as you already know. I used to play with these a lot, but lost the key even more."

"Hmph...I never intended to meet your father. Let alone in these circumstances." Marcus muttered. 

"And you won't." Stiles smirked smugly. 

Marcus raised an eyebrow at him and silently prompted further explanation. 

"For your safety they haven't released the information of where you are. I simply found you because I'm oh so clever." Stiles replied sweetly, but there was an iciness in his voice. "The nurses will switch shifts soon. There's a side exit three hallways down. I know you have enough liquidated funds to get you what you need to leave the state. Then all you have to do is reach into your off shore accounts and start all over...take over some other firm with amazingly forged documents, find another Stiles to keep your bed warm on Tuesday nights...then when it happens again, you'll just repeat. You're a survivor after all...or so you always said."

"And you?" Marcus asked after a pause. "What? Go to rehab? Family therapy? Get clean, finish school, fix things up with your boyfrien-"

"He's _not_ my boyfriend!" Stiles hissed.

"But he wants to be." Marcus said pointedly. "He wants to save you Stiles. He wants to clean you up, fix any dents, make you the best you you can be...he wants to hold you. To keep men like me away from you. Men who can see that fire in your soul and aren't afraid to ignite it."

Stiles smirked slightly, "Derek isn't fond of fire..." then he shook his head. "Derek's not important. What is, is being ready to leave in the next seven minutes. Otherwise you'll be stuck here, get prosecuted, and let me tell you...if your new inmates found out you like to fuck little boys, even though I'm a few months shy of being eighteen, they're going to deliver justice they think the system failed to deliver." Stiles said threateningly. 

Marcus didn't seemed phased. He actually chuckled, "You're worried about me."

Stiles stood up and squared his shoulders. "I'm really not." Before Marcus could open his mouth to protest, Stiles continued. "You're _my_ choice. A part of the life I've chosen...I won't want to hand over the satisfaction of putting you in jail. I want you to be free, not because I care about you, but because I want them to be kept up at night _knowing_ you're not behind bars. _Knowing_ that the predator that _sullied_ me roams free, doing it to who knows how many other poor, naive, misguided, lost souls..."

"You were the best though." Marcus murmured as he locked eyes with Stiles. "I did try with others, but they weren't like you. There are no others like you." 

Stiles smiled slightly at that. 

"Come with me." Marcus suddenly said.

"What?"

"I've offered this to you before, but it was then. This is now. I face serious charges, and with your father as the sheriff, I will see no fair trial. You said so yourself, Stiles...you chose this life. You have _Will Power_ to make choices...you were never a child. But they will always treat you like one. A child that needs to be protected and watched like a hawk for a very long time to come. A child whose choices will be evaluated, judged, and analyzed to the last detail...you'll become as much as a prisoner as I would. So...run away with me. I have enough funds for both of us to get started."  Marcus begged slightly. "I won't ask you to change...I'll feed that fire in your belly Stiles. I'll fuel it until it consumes you, because that's what you want right? I'll give it to you...just come away with me." 

Stiles stared a him for a long moment before he gave a single firm nod, "Okay." 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

"Where's your smile, Agent? Looking a little bitter...no one's looking, I could _help_ you." Stiles drawled with a lazy smirk and cold steely eyes. He tugged at his cuffs as he walked through the airport ignoring all of the looks he was getting. He was handed from one of the TSA agents accompanied by a police officer to no one else but Agent Rafael McCall. 

Scott's father stood there stoically, hands in his pockets just staring at Stiles. Stiles expected the older man to be smirking arrogantly at seeing the Sheriff's kid in a position like this. By now the teen had no doubt in his mind that the agent knew exactly what everyone else back in Beacon knew, and he no longer cared. He buried himself deeper into this grave and _flirted_ with the man that he used to all but hate. He knew where McCall stood. With his sexuality and his morality and wouldn't take Stiles up on the offer, but Stiles was more so doing it to try to make him uncomfortable...and maybe piss off his own father. 

Agent McCall sighed and turned to the officer so he could show him his credentials. When the officer nodded, and Agent McCall tugged him along by his arm. Stiles would have made a comment about 'Like if rough,huh?' but chose to keep his mouth shut. 

He and Marcus had been on their own for three days. Marcus took Stiles to a safe house where they showered, fucked, showered again, went to a Chinese restaurant for dinner, got Stiles some _Twelve,_ and then back to the safe house. Stiles enjoyed himself and dared to imagine his new life as Marcus made preparations for them both. There was a car ready for them to use. Their new passports and IDs were ready on the second day. 

He was now Victor Moreau.

He couldn't help but think it was both fitting and ironic. Victor...winner. He won his freedom by lying and cheating. He technically won, he wasn't a prisoner...but he didn't feel victorious. 

Still, he hid his dreary thoughts from Marcus who was now William Wells. They got their as perfectly as possible forged passports which were pretty damn convincing, and made their way to the airport.

They nearly made it.

They made it past screening and through the gate.

They boarded the plane and buckled in. 

They were so close to freedom.

Then just before the door could close TSA agents followed by some officers barged into the plane holding their guns at the ready. People scream and gasp and Stiles feels a cold coil of dread curl in the pit of his stomach. 

Marcus tries to reassure him. Tells him names of people he swears can 'fix this' and Stiles nearly dared to almost believe him until he saw Scott's dad feet away after they were escorted out of the plane. The FBI was there...there was no more running. At least not for Marcus. 

Stiles watched as people passed him by, faces immediately forgotten after passing him by. Getting into the front seat of McCall's car surprised him a bit, but he still remained silent. He rolled down the window and closed his eyes, enjoying the wind in his face. Who knew when he'd be allowed outside again? He was almost eighteen. They could try him as an adult, make an example of him. Make him the poster child of underage prostitution and drug use. 

About an hour of driving in silence, without even the radio, Stiles finally had to ask. 

"Where are they sending me?"

"Not going to ask what's going to happen to your... _friend_?"

Stiles scoffed, "He's the FBI's problem now, and no longer my solution...I don't care what happens to him."

"He'll serve in a maximum security prison." Agent McCall stated.

"I said I didn't care. But for his sake I hope no one finds out why he's being sent there...stereotypes of what happens if you drop the soap are worse for those who like little boys." Stiles said coldly. 

He was trying to be discreet, but he knew Agent McCall was holding things back, so Stiles was watching him as carefully as he could with long side glances. Stiles caught how the Agent's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. 

"You know, if they try to use me as a poster child of some sort, it might miss the message. Anti-Gay groups will twist it up and like...exaggerate shit. Because I had no previous relationships they'll say I was led into the gay life and look where it got me...an addict...a whore...imprisoned...no friends or family..."

Agent McCall pushed on the break suddenly and Stiles thusted forward a bit. He winced as the seat belt locked and pushed against him. 

"You have _family_. You have _friends_." Agent McCall emphasized. After a paused he began to drive again. 

Stiles stared at him for a moment before turning to gaze out the window. "They'll get bored. They'll stop visiting...then I'll be free eventually and fall into the same habit, just try to be smarter about it."

"You're not going to jail. You're doing a stint in rehab. Twenty-one days. Then you're back home...with a few _conditions_ of course." And there it was. There was that smile of arrogant victory that Stiles expected to see early on. 

"Like?" Stiles prompted. 

"Like having _me_ as your sponsor." 

"What!? No! I'd rather go to jail!" Stiles protested. He turned to glare heavily at the agent. 

McCall just smirked and kept his eyes on the road. "You, luckily, don't have a choice in the matter."

"Aren't you supposed to be in DC? Why the hell would you take this on? There's gotta be a better way to get your rocks off than having a bitchy me around."

The agent was silent and they drove for another few minutes before he parked the car to the side of the road. Putting the car in park and shutting the engine off, Agent McCall stares out in front of him for a long moment. He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something but then closes his mouth. This happens another three times before he turns and looks at Stiles. "I'm going to help you."

"I don't _need_ help." Stiles shook his head fiercely. He's looked his father in the eyes and said this. He's looked int Scott's eyes, Lydia's, Derek's...he didn't care then, so why was _this_ affecting him?

"You do, Stiles, but you've heard it already. You've heard the promises and pleas and they only make you laugh. They don't scare you because you losing control of yourself gave you control of them. They all feel guilty and ashamed and sorry...it's all about them now. You and the core of your problems easily forgotten. You _were_ right..."

Stiles looks away, his eyes uncontrollably begin to water, but he keeps the tears at bay.

"The people you cared and loved didn't see or hear you until you finally broke and fell. You've been hurt so much you can now only give hurt in return."

"What, you're a profiler now?" Stiles demanded as he scoffed a bit. He crossed his arms and looked at anything but the other man. 

"I have been around a lot of people who have been where you are. I've seen those who give into their darkness...but I've also seen those who over come it." McCall answered.

Stiles laughed darkly, "So this is _your_ pitch? Encouraging really..."

Agent McCall ignored Stiles's eyeroll and said, "Yeah, you could say that."

"Just go back to D.C. Go back to your high profile serial killers and terrorist and leave me to rot with these small town values."

"I'm not leaving Stiles. And I'm going to help you. Whether you like it or not. And I know you won't."

"That's because I hate you."

"With reason. And if you don't trust others to want to help you because they claim to love you and you believe that that's going to keep from really helping you, you don't have to worry about that with me. I'm going to be honest with you."

"Since you can't be with Scott, might as well be with me, right?" Stiles asked as he smirked defiantly at the agent. 

"That is exactly why I'm helping you. If I help you, maybe I can be forgiven by my family. I have personal interest in this." the Agent said, hoping Stiles would accept it. Stiles wasn't so easily trusting, but now even less so. If he was going to accept the agents help, his now twisted mind needed to believe there was an underlying reason that was more important than Stiles.

"You wouldn't have to be forgiven if you were just a man at the time it happened and manned up to it! But you ran!" Stiles cried accusingly.

"And what are _you_ doing!?" Agent McCall demanded, voice rising to the same level as Stiles. That caused Stiles to pause and eyes to widen. Agent gave a stiff nod, "Yeah! That's right, Stiles, you're _running_! Just like I did! You and me? Congratulations we now have something in common. We run from our problems!" 

Stiles shook his head venomously, "I'm not like you! I didn't hurt anyone!" 

"You've been hurting them since you ran!"Agent McCall took a breath before continuing. "Before they knew...yeah, that was something different. But since they found out you have made it your mission to hurt them at every possible chance. You were relentless and merciless. But you knew you would face the consequences of your actions...but when the opportunity showed itself, you took it. You... _ran_!" 

They were both quiet. McCall staring intently, and a bit sadly at Stiles. Stiles crossed his arms over and over again as he stared intently at his feet. 

"When I heard...that one of the guys we've been chasing for some time was caught in Beacon Hills...when I heard more and more details...you may not believe this, but it broke my heart." When Stiles scoffed bitterly, the agent gave an understanding shrug and nod, "I had this... _grudge_ on your father. You knew that. You were far more troublesome than Scott and yet your relationship with your father was something out of a 90's sitcom. I was jealous I had lost that with Scott. I hated your father for being the male adult figure of my son's life. Even when I was away...but I was also happy you were with Scott. You would keep him out of trouble...no matter what because you were so damn loyal to my kid...to know he didn't return that and let you fall this far...I have to wonder what the hell fucking happened that not your father, not Melissa, not Scott saw _any_ of it..."

"I'm not the guy anyone notices...unless they need a ride, or a plan...or something. I'm only as useful as...as long as I'm useful. My usefulness gets used up fairly quick." Stiles muttered. 

"You can't keep running Stiles." McCall said gently. "You don't wanna be like me."

"Professionally speaking, you're not doing too bad."

"That means shit when at the end of the day you realize you caused your own family to leave you. It means shit when you look around and all you see is you're surrounded by misery and pain and monsters...and nothing in sight to show that what you're doing is worth it."

"You left them...they're happy..." Stiles mumbled, he hoped it would be the same in his situation. 

"They faced tough times though...times I could have been there."

"Even if I wanted to..." Stiles began.

"You would have been chased. It may take time for it to sink in, but you have people that really care."

"I can't escape..." Stiles sighed in resignation. 

McCall studied him for a long while. When he saw that Stiles wouldn't be contributing anymore, he pulled back onto the road. In another hour or so they parked in front of the McCall residence. Stiles looked at him with a slightly raised eyebrow, the rest of his body was sagged in defeat. 

"I told you there were conditions. You in a hospital didn't seem to work out very well. So you'll be under house arrest until arrangements can be made to a facility that'll best fit your needs. Until then you're to stay with a trained medical persona, me, and a patrol car out front on look-out." McCall explained before reaching into the glove box and took out a box and handed it to Stiles.

Stiles turned it in his hands before opening it and pulling out an anklet. He looked at the agent with slightly widened eyes, "You can't be serious!"

"You ran away twice..." McCall shrugged in a 'what are you gonna do?' sort of way.

"You're putting me under house arrest and on a leash?" Stiles demanded. 

McCall took the anklet and pulled Stiles's leg up and fastened it up for him. Stiles protested and argued but it was eventually snapped on, little green light looking up at him almost mockingly. 

"Come on...you'll want to get inside. By now the deputy must have radioed your father and the rest...I'm sure you'll have company." McCall got out of his car and then helped Stiles out.

They walked up tot he house and were greeted by Melissa. Stiles tried to look away, but she just cupped his face and they stared at each other. Stiles saw the emotion and hurt in her eyes, but he just stared back blankly. She hugged him and he went stiff. 

Stiles was shown upstairs to the spare bedroom. Normally he would sleep in Scott's room, but things weren't normal. He sat on the bed as the two adults headed downstairs. He got up and walked towards the bathroom in the hallway and locked himself inside.

* * *

 

"I can't believe you found him! Like...the last few days have been _hell_! I've never seen John so... _broken_." Melissa said as she put the kettle on. 

"I'd imagine." was Rafael's reply.

"Be honest with me...what's going to happen with Stiles?" Melissa asked. After all that's happened, she had no clue what awaited the once hyper active child that was such a constant in her life.

"I pulled a few strings, called in a few favors. Made a few deals. Don't worry...he's not going to be harassed by lawyers or officials or anything." Rafael saw how Melissa nearly collapsed with relief. So he continued after a pause. "He'll need rehab."

She nodded in understanding and acceptance. Also a bit of relief, "Of course!"

"He'll be in for twenty-one days. He'll have a professional there to help him before he's moved in here with you. He'll still need therapy, but we know Stiles and locking him up is not only counter productive since we've seen him escape plenty of times now, it's not what he needs. And I've been given clearance to be his sponsor and supervisor...I'm going to help him as best as I can."

"I...I really don't mean to be rude. Not after all you've done, but I have to ask..what do you expect to do what we couldn't?"

"It may have seemed like an eternity, but it's been less than a week. And honestly? I know...I know I have to prove myself to Scott and to you...this? I'm hoping this could be a good way to show the both of you that I _still_ care. I still see that brave, slightly insane little kid that fought against the bullies that took Scott's inhaler at the park when they were five...I want to save him, for any reason, for Scott's sake..."

"We can only hope that bastard never shows his ugly face again..." Melissa angrily said.

"He's not going anywhere. He was a con man well known to different divisions at the bureau. Add in the new charges with the old...he's not going to see the light of day anytime soon. It's part of the reason I got Stiles out of any trouble...if anything Stiles may have to do some community service, head to a court hearing or two, but I've convinced them to not even consider having Stiles in the same room as that conman, and that Stiles's is a victim...that now needs to be taken care of. And he will be, by the best."

"That's good...that's all-" Melissa stopped mid-sentence when the door swung open and Scott barreled through with Derek.

"Where's....dad?" Scott asked, confused when he saw his father in the the kitchen.

"Blood..." Derek mumbled as he sniffed the air.

Scott looked at Derek with confusion as he sniffed the air too. Before he finished taking his sniff, Derek had bolted upstairs. Scott's eyes widened and he yelled, "STILES!"

Rafael was so shocked by it all, he pulled his gun out of his holster and ran up the stairs. The last he remembered hearing about Derek Hale, he'd been a murder suspect that involved the school and Scott.

Upstairs, Derek reached the bathroom followed closely by Scott. When they couldn't get the door opened because it was locked, Derek kicked it down with his werewolf strength. Both wolves nearly collapsed when they looked inside.

Stiles was unconscious on the ground, both wrists slit and gushing with blood. He was pale and unresponsive. Derek knelt at him and cupped his face before checking for a pulse. "No, no, no, no! No, come on Stiles! You _can't_ do this to me! I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry, baby.... _please_ don't...don't leave me too. You _can't_!" Derek was hysterically muttering to Stiles with a broken and devastated voice. His eyes were glistening with tears, a few escaping. 

"Oh my god!" Melissa cried as the two adults arrived at the scene.

" _Fuck_! Melissa call an ambulance. Scott, grab towels, we have to stop the bleeding!" Rafael barked out the order. 

Melissa reached into her pocket for her phone can called 911. Rafael wrapped a towel around both of Stiles's wrist and ordered Derek and Scott to put pressure. He was going to get his radio he left downstairs to inform the deputy outside and anyone else on their line about the update and call for reinforcements.

While he ran downstairs, Derek wasn't doing much better as Stiles's heartbeat slowed down even more. His eyes widened before they turned red and he looked down at Stiles's towel clad wrist. The towel was white but the blood was quickly darkening it into a crimson. Derek looked up apologetically at Scott. 

"Derek! No!" Scott shook his head in a panic. 

Agent McCall returned in time to see Derek shift into his Beta form, eyes blood red, fangs extended, faced covered in fur. He let out a panicked yell as he jumped in front of Melissa and point his gun at Derek as Derek sunk his teeth into Stiles's wrist.

"NO!" Scott cried as he watched it all in panic. 

Just as Derek let go of Stiles, a deafening _bang_ made his ear ring as his father _shot_ the older werewolf. But even as Derek recoiled onto his back, Scott was paying attention to Stiles. 

Would the Bite take? Would it kill him?

"Come on Stiles... _come on_....please... _please_ open you eyes... _ **please!**_ "


	6. Chapter 6

"I think this could be a _good_ thing." Isaac spoke up after an uncomfortable prolonged silence. 

After Melissa stopped screaming, Agent McCall was out of shock, and Derek got up with a groan though still partially wolfed out, did Scott see the slits on Stiles's wrist begin to heal. He let out a sigh of relief even though things were now more complicated than ever. 

Rafael pulled Scott away from Derek and aimed his gun again and Scott had no choice but to shift in front of his father. It was a quick, not well thought out, decision, but they were on the clock. They couldn't avoid the ambulance that was on the way, and even though Scott wanted nothing more than to be next to Stiles through all this, he let Derek go with his mom while he stayed with his dad. Between Melissa and Derek they managed to make it seem like it was an over reaction. They met the Sheriff along the way and gave a brief explanation while telling him to round everyone up and take them to the Stilinski house hold. 

Scott wasn't sure how his mom managed to do it, but she brought Stiles back to the house. The lack of injuries were played off as stress and a ' _cruel joke_ ' from Stiles. Given what the nurse staff has heard from Stiles while he was there, it was believed. 

Scott did his best to keep his dad from panicking because he was on the verge of a panic attack. Luckily Allison and her dad arrived to their house soon after and Chris Argent took Agent McCall to the side.

Stiles arrived, still unconscious, with Derek and Melissa soon after and he was taken to his room. Derek stayed with him because he was Alpha. Melissa because she was the trained medical official. As soon as the Sheriff arrived he was up there too, he didn't need a reason. Scott wanted to be up there too, but was told to wait downstairs and wait for everyone else. 

They arrived in two groups. Lydia and Jackson arrived with Isaac, while Peter arrived with Erica and Boyd. They all found a place to claim while they waited, no one said a thing until Isaac. 

"How in the hell do you figure that?" Jackson scoffed with an eye roll.

"The FBI knows now." Boyd chimed in somberly. 

"Not the FBI, just my dad." Scott said defensively.

"There are FBI agents who know about the supernatural. Granted they merely point out cases to hunter families, but they still exist. Mr. McCall is with my dad right now, he'll explain." Allison replied.

"And what I meant this could be good _for_ Stiles. He wasn't going to stop....not soon. And at that rate he was going he'd end up killing himself _just_ to spite us." Isaac claimed, gaining him plenty of growls and glares. He shrugged but in a submissive manner before rolling his shoulders and continuing. "He's a wolf now. He _can't_ get drunk or high. It can be a good thing."

"Right but now we have to make sure he doesn't go on a killing spree. Waking up do you _really_ think he'll heel at Derek's order? Even if it's Derek that bit him, his _Alpha_ ,  have you _met_ Stilinski?" Jackson asked incredulously. 

"Emotions are heightened to a dangerous extent. The moon's phase could also affect him. Stiles's own natural behavior of being cunning and sarcastic, cynical and even more so lately..." Peter mused aloud. 

"Is there a point you're trying to make there?" Erica demanded. 

"Stating facts. Jackson's right. All wolves here have been accused or thought possible of murder. If not for Stiles and Scott, chance are more than Jackson would have blue eyes." Peter deadpanned.Then he said very seriously, "Should Stiles really defy Derek's Alpha status...he may just become the Argent's problem."

* * *

 

Stiles stirred in his unconscious state but still didn't wake. 

Melissa moved to wipe his sweat soaked forehead with a cool damped cloth. As she did she frowned worriedly at the boy she practically raised with her son. Turning to look at Derek, who was seated dutiful on the other side, holding Stiles's hand. Every once in a while she would see black veins run up Derek's arms. Finally she couldn't fight hold back the questions. 

"Is this normal?"

The question had both Derek and the Sheriff looking up, both previously lost in their thoughts while looking at Stiles. 

"Not exactly. Though Jackson's wolf didn't take easily either." Derek answered.

The Sheriff frowned deeply, "Will Stiles turn into a killing lizard thing like Whittemore did?"

Derek licked his lips, "I hope not. I...I don't think so." With both Melissa and the Sheriff looking at him expectantly he sighed before continuing. "Most of the time the bite takes without much problems. Sometimes...it _can_ kill you."

Melissa gasped and the Sheriff's eyes widened and he held on tighter to Stiles's other hand. 

"The bite took though," Derek added quickly. His thumb runs over where he bit the teen. "It's healed, see?"

"Then why hasn't he woken up? Why is he in pain? That's what the black lines mean right?" the Sheriff demanded.

"I _am_ taking the pain away..." Derek admitted cautiously.

He knew that out of all of the people within the house that weren't Stiles, the Sheriff was the one suffering the most. The last member of his family, his little boy, was in a horribly dark place. Not only that, but he had given up on life. After losing his wife to the long, agonizingly slow death of cancer and chemo therapy, losing his son in such a way would destroy the man. It would destroy him while he felt like a failure among other ill things. Derek didn't want to upset the Sheriff anymore than he already was, which was why he kept the whole _Mate_ thing to himself. Though he was sure his actions raised plenty of questions, but the Sheriff hasn't said anything yet. Derek wanted approval, wanted to prove he would take care of Stiles...but he would have to actually prove it. To himself, to the Sheriff, and mostly to Stiles. He knew he had a long road ahead of him. 

"I'm sorry I can't give you the answers you want Sheriff. I just _don't_ know. The Bite affects people differently...even if a lot of the time the results are pretty similar. Personality and character have a lot to do with the transformation...it's part of why Jackson initially didn't _just_ become a wolf." he looked down at Stiles with worried and sad eyes. "Stiles was in a horrible place mentally, emotionally, and physically. Add in the stress of wanting to run, the drugs still in his body..." he paused as he wrinkled his nose, "That stuff he was on...it really put a number on him."

" _Twelve_..." the Sheriff supplied. "It has the cross effects of cocaine and ecstasy, is twice as addicting, and has the triple threat of overdose."

"Just about the 3/4's of the last month of John and Jane Doe's have been victims of that drug." Melissa added.

"Adding..." he paused as he licked his lips, not wanting to say the words, but he had to. "Adding the fact that he...he..." He closed his eyes before opening them to meet the Sheriff's. "I _couldn't_ let him die...I'm sorry. I'm sorry about a _lot_ of things. About not seeing it happen. About not being there when he needed it. But I'm not sorry for biting him...not if it meant he wouldn't die."

The Sheriff didn't look away and it was Derek who looked away first. The werewolf heard the older man sigh, which made him look up. 

"There are a lot of things happening in this town that I don't understand. You and the boys have had your hands full, all while trying to remain a sense of normality. It was only a matter of time before something had to break..."

"It shouldn't have been Stiles though." Derek said.

"No...no it shouldn't have." the Sheriff agreed. The he stated. "You feel guilty."

Derek bit his tongue to keep from commenting that as Stiles's mate he should have been there for him. It was a wolf's duty, especially an Alpha wolf. If he couldn't keep his mate safe...how the hell was he supposed to run a pack? And then again...he hasn't done very well on that front either. "I'm a born wolf. This has been my world my whole life. I should have been able to give more answers, be able to supply solutions. Most of the time... _Stiles_ was the one finding them."

"It _was_ Stiles who took Scott out the day they found your sister's body..." the Sheriff said before sighing again. "Stiles's curiosity was a good thing, but we grew apart when his mother passed and the teenage years began. I just...I didn't know how to talk to him anymore." the Sheriff sighed again. "With joining the lacrosse team and getting in trouble, those became the ways we talked but it still wasn't enough..."

They fell into a silence again as they watched Stiles. His chest rose and fell as he breathed. Every once in a while he'd stir but still not wake. The cold sweats continued, more things happened as the night carried on. Stiles's nails would turn to claws and teeth to fangs. They'd recede and then extend again at random intervals. Sometimes he'd rumble and growl, but Stiles didn't awaken all night or the next one either. 

* * *

 

"Still nothing new?" Agent McCall asked Chris Argent who entered his office at the station. 

The previous day the hunter had his hands full explaining the supernatural from a human's point of view. Then he'd gone into deeper detail about the last few months which regarded the agent's son and his group of friends. 

It was a lot to take in. 

If he hadn't seen Derek or Scott in their Beta forms, he might not believe. Hell, even now he still found it hard to believe. But even if all this supernatural stuff was now a factor, it still didn't disregard the fact that Stiles still needed help or that he was still his sponsor. He promised to help Stiles, and he was going to keep that promise. The only thing that changed was that he needed help better understanding the situation _now_. 

Chris sighed as he took a seat and shook his head. "Still unconscious."

"How long does it normally take?" Rafael asked.

"Normally...and _that_ choice of word is just an oxymoron, by the way, _seconds_. It may take a while to see the changes. Typically the days that followed. The effect of the moon's phase would also be a factor but this...I've never heard of this." Chris admitted. 

"Well...you must have some theories about what will happen when he wakes up." when the hunter didn't answer right away, Rafael brought up a follow up question, "He _will_ wake up right?"

Chris sighed again. "I don't know..."

"I really hate that answer." the agent replied with a frown. 

"Trust me, we do too. Stiles is showing signs that we've never seen before. We can't be 100% sure but we're thinking the drug he was on had an effect on the transformation. How exactly? We're not sure. The Bite seemed to take, unlike with Lydia. But..." Chris frowned deeply. "Werewolves immune systems are very strong. They don't get sick unless they've been poisoned by specific herbs like wolfs-bane or mistletoe. The cold-sweats Stiles is expressing, as well as the rising and lowering of temperature isn't something I've ever heard of."

"I feel like you're trying to tell me something.." Rafael said dryly.

"Stiles was on the verge of death when he got the Bite. That's serious circumstances alone when getting it. Whether it took is really a coin toss at that point. Add in the toxins in his body and his mental and emotional state. _He_ cut himself. He _knew_ he could die. He _wanted_ to... It's a power of wills now. Stiles now has in him a beast, but he's still in there himself. We'll just have to wait and see what happened."

"Just wait? Wait for _what_ exactly?"

"Whether the beast's will to live is stronger than the human's who wants to die." 

* * *

 

Even though Melissa was the assigned medical care personnel to house Stiles, she still had to report to the hospital here and there. The Sheriff himself still had a lot of legal issues to work out regarding his part in his under aged son being involved in prostitution. Most of the pack still had school to attend. 

So on the third day, the day Stiles finally awoke after receiving the Bite, only Derek, Peter, and Boyd were present in the house. Considering the strength and physique of each of the wolves, handling a newly turn wolf with Stiles's physique should have been easy.

It wasn't.

Stiles woke up and Derek was the only one in the room at the moment. Before he could even utter Stiles's name under his breath, Stiles shifted and lunged himself at Derek. He scratched Derek up pretty bad. Peter and Boyd tried to break into the room but Stiles threw whatever furniture he could reach to block the entryway. Stiles managed to get his hands on his aluminum bat just as Derek grabbed his bearings after Stiles shoved him as hard as he could into the desk. Taking a huge swing at Derek's head, by the time Peter and Boyd managed to break through the door, Stiles was gone and Derek was healing on the floor. 

**Author's Note:**

> Did I mention I don't do drugs? Yeah...totally noticeable. Also unBeta'd and written at 3 in the morning...there WILL be errors.
> 
> Walter Patterson is the druggie addict from Criminal Mind's episode "To Hell and Back." And Megan Kane from the episode "Pleasure is my Business."
> 
> Marcus is from Divergent...I just needed names and personalities. So those are how they look like if you're curious. 
> 
> If you want you can follow me on Twitter at @_The_Young_Wolf


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